We’re recovering from guests in our home today with movies and popcorn. We had a good time, some intense coversations, and lots of good baby bonding. More on all of that later.
For now, a photo. Our niece is lovely, isn’t she?
J and I received the settlement for her car debacle. As you may recall, her car’s computer was fried as a result of our previous mechanic’s shoddy work (major wires were pinched, shorts occurred, the car died). It was a big surprise, but the previous mechanic’s insurance company paid up quite quickly.
And so it came that we saw this as an opportunity to celebrate. We’ve not had extra money for going to bars, and we’ve been cleaning out our bodies of toxins, so we thought it might be fun to treat ourselves and go to our favorite local pub for some drinks. Unfortunately, it turns out I enjoy pear vodka a little too much (add some club soda, and it’s the most refreshing summer drink). Today, I am not enjoying the vodka or its effects. Today, I feel like utter shite. I thought vodka was supposed to be less likely to create a hangover, although it may have been the wine we had as a nightcap once we got home that threw me over the edge. All I know is that as we ate dinner, I could no longer keep myself upright. I needed to sleep, and so I did. And now I’m paying the piper, as J’s mom used to say.
While I can deal with a hangover–I’ve had plenty–it’s not so easy to deal with a hangover when one must do things. Today is not the day to have one. My mom, my sister, and my niece are coming for a visit. We are supposed to be going to farmer’s market tonight. I am supposed to be finishing up the cleaning of the house. I am supposed to feel alive and energetic. Instead, I feel like I’m sitting in mud. Ugh.
Anyone have any sure-fire hangover cures? I’ve got the water under control, but what else works for you?
In other news, I popped my first prenatal vitamin in months this morning. I purchased some good ones at our little market yesterday. We’re almost exactly three months out from the beginning of Operation Baby 2008.
J and I are devastated by the news that a gunman killed two people and seriously injured several more at a Unitarian Universalist church in Tennessee today. There is an article here.
We go to a UU church and have since 2003. UUs are wonderful, peaceful, accepting, and beautiful people. It is so sad, so very, very sad, that we can’t even be safe in our churches.
Our thoughts and prayers go out to these people and their families.
J and I drove an hour and a half to get to the beach today, and it was well worth it. We used to live less than five minutes from the beach. We would see the surf every day. We could hear the waves pounding the shore at night during the winter. It was part of our everyday existence, and it’s hard to be so far from it now.
Today started off a little cranky. We’re dealing with cat issues (post to come), and we were both a little in the dumps, so we needed to get out. It turned out to be a lovely day. Here, it was in the nineties and unbearably hot, but on the coast, it was in the upper sixties with a light wind and plenty of sun.
Families were out flying kites and having picnics. Kids were burying each other in the sand and getting wet in the freezing ocean. It was beautiful.
We also simply sat on a giant piece of driftwood and stared at the surf. We were windblown and sun-kissed by the time we left, and our spirits were lifted tenfold. The beach and the forest are two places that are guaranteed to calm me and lift me out of even the worst funks. As you can see, I was downright breezy by the time we left:
Next year we are hoping to move about thirty miles west of our current town, and one of the reasons is so that we will be closer to the ocean. We won’t live nearly as close as we once did in our old hometown, but it will be less than half an hour away, which will be blissful on those days when our moods seem irreparable and all we need is some salty air and the rhythm of the surf. For now, it’s a lovely treat when we get to go. I had forgotten how much I missed it.
Everyone who responded yesterday with a caption is a winner. Those were hilarious. We both got many laughs from them, and henceforth, Pierre’s new nickname is “Peeping Tomcat.” That’s so him. I will post about our girl cat sagas later.
J and I went to the county fair yesterday. It was a proper fair with rides and fair food and exhibits and livestock and all.
We had gone to our tiny county fair a couple of years ago where we used to live, but it was so very small and so not festive. This fair was what both of us remembered from childhood–and yet different. For one, neither of us is really into riding the death traps that the tweaker carnies run. We did, however, enjoy walking through the throngs of kids as they waited in line to have their adrenaline fixes.
What we really noticed is that the fair is pretty low-key when you’re an adult. We liked the flower and garden exhibits a lot and spent nearly an hour staring at the various model gardens.
We also enjoyed the art–especially the photography. I don’t want to be mean, but I’m not sure in the age of digital photography when everyone is a photographer that there should be a category for children in the photo contests. You wouldn’t believe the number of truly awful photos people entered because they thought their kids were cute when they were picking their noses or fishing. I hate to be snarky like that; I suppose that’s the beauty of the art contests at the county fair: anyone can enter.
We did spend some time in the big exhibit hall where people try to sell you time shares and makeup and moisturizer and hot tubs. I had mineral makeup put on my face (which I liked, but didn’t buy); we dipped our hands in hot tubs and played with the jets and lights; we picked up Obama stickers at the Dem booth; we exfoliated our hands with sea salt scrub and then over-moisturized them with about four different types of lotion and body butter; some young men tried to sell as an expensive hospital bed-type frame for our nontemperpedic mattress; we signed up to “win” a visit to a time share in Hawaii; we sampled really disgusting “salsa” made from dehydrated veggies and spices and a can of tomatoes (and promptly spit it out); we avoided cleaning product demonstrations; we laughed, a lot.
One thing both of us had hoped to enjoy was some semi-good music. We heard a small jazz ensemble playing, and they were fun, so we sat down near them, and they stopped to join a parade that was starting.
At the head of the “parade” were the Bud.weiser Clydes.dales.
Then came the jazz group, and then about three wagons with kids in them, and finally a group of patriotic adults carrying flags.
The parade was over in less than one minute. It was ridiculous and so very funny.
After the parade, we opted for beer, so we each bought a $7 pint of local beer–beer which they were calling “imported” because it wasn’t a macrobrew and they wanted to charge more (we buy the same beer for $7 per six pack–what is that?).
We indulged at some point in fair food which made us both sick, and we attempted to listen to music later as well, but at the main stage was a Christian rock band and all their freaky fans, and we simply had to go. Somehow, two lesbians did not fit in there. At all. We did walk through two barns to look at animals. We stumbled upon an auction for goats, and we again did not fit in. We still liked it, and J got to pet cows for the first time.
Later, we wandered through the midway and past all of the games. We did not spend five dollars to throw baseballs or darts. We did not win any large stuffed animals or beer mirrors.
I have to say that the fair is best for kids or those with kids. We definitely felt we were missing something there, and we all know what that was. Nevertheless, it was fun; at least we weren’t sitting at home watching television.
Not much is happening over here at Reproducing Genius. I’m still taking photos off of the back balcony. The latest are of our old man. Yes, we have an old man. He lives in the building next to ours. He’s cranky and mean. He hates most people under 40. Our old man likes to sit on his back porch in the morning, facing our apartment and the sun. Every morning that the sun is out, he is there, sitting. He sits there for hours. He does nothing but sit and soak up the sun and sleep. Here he is through the slats on our balcony:
This old man often sleeps on his deck during his hours of sun. There have been many days when we have been concerned that he died because he is so still. On these days, we may or may not make large noises on our balcony to wake him.
Our other old man–our cat Pierre–loves to hang out on this man’s porch. It’s as though he knows they have something in common.
Because we have been home so much lately, our cats are a source of both entertainment and frustration. We have mentioned before that in our old home, all of the cats gladly went outside regularly. They loved their yard and their garden. Here, only Pierre–our ten-year-old boy cat–will go out regularly. He does love it. He catches lizards, hangs out on the old man’s porch, makes his rounds at the pool, and greets tenants as they come home. Everyone knows Pierre here. Oftentimes, when we meet a new person at our apartment complex, he or she will know Pierre or that we’re Pierre’s moms. We often hear people getting out of their cars or taking out the trash say, “Hi Pierre!” He’s very popular.
Lately, he has taken to sitting on the railing outside of our kitchen window when he wants in. This is two stories up, so it makes me a little nervous, but it’s funny:
His face still makes me melt after all these years.
In the interest of entertaining us all, I challenge you to caption the photo below. I will post the winner(s) tomorrow.
Stay tuned for more crazy cat lady posts.